Ron Goulart by A Whiff of Madness

Author:A Whiff of Madness
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-04-25T13:30:02+00:00

CHAPTER 13

Toot!

“Excuse me,” said the steam robot. “My boiler has been defective … toot … for no little time and consequently … toot ... due to other flaws in my structure the escaping steam often produces a most unseemly … toot… toot sound. Pray excuse me.”

Summer had just been introduced to Thinker, the meal-serving mechanism. “Think nothing of it,” he said. “What I’d like to—”

“What’s for dinner tonight?” inquired Hesslin, putting his whiskers close to the steaming caldron Thinker had wheeled in.

“It’s … toot … boiled offal,” replied the steam robot

“Again?” Young Hare groaned. “I take it the management of this alleged asylum took no notice of the nine-page critique of the bill of fare which I—”

“What’s that blue stuff floating there in the offal?”

Thinker’s neck creaked as he bent to gaze into the caldron. “Appears to be part of somebody’s felt hat, doesn’t it?”

“Isn’t it bad enough they feed us offal practically every day?” demanded the catman. “Does it have to be contaminated as well?”

“Ah, but, Mr. Hesslin … toot… under the amended Territorial Pure Food and Drug Statutes offal may contain as much as ten percent non-offal.” Thinker snapped his metal fingers, which made a thung sound. “Drat, I meant to toss in that dead mouse I found on the floor of Dr. Ferrier’s—”

“Cats like mice,” Hesslin said slowly. “Catmen do not like mice. For an intelligent machine you—”

“Excuse me … toot … for being confused,” said the robot. “Since the philosophical anarchist dog-faced boy on subfloor B is always asking for bones I naturally—”

“I’m not some kind of sport of nature.”

“Boys, boys,” said Dr. Yach. “Enough quarreling. Go ahead, Thinker, and pass out the offal.”

“Yes, I… toot… will. Don’t you have a bowl, Mr. Summer?”

“That’s OK. I’m fasting,” said the reporter. “You go to Dr. Ferrier’s cell every day?”

While Thinker spooned the hot food into the other inmates’ wooden bowls he said, “Three times a day. Lately I’ve been … toot … dropping in more often to … toot… get rid of the dead mice.”

“Damn,” said Hesslin. Talk of something else while I’m eating my offal.”

“Toot... excuse me.”

“Do you know why Dr. Ferrier is being kept in St Charlie’s?” Summer asked the robot

“It has to do … toot… with some contribution … toot—”

“Lord almighty!” Bright-haired Hare threw his unfinished bowl of offal against the wall. “Can’t you control that offensive tooting of yours?”

“Now, now,” said Dr. Yach, “we can’t all have complete sway over ourselves, young fellow … God bless the king!”

“Oh, screw the king!”

The robot wiped his spoon on his bibbed apron. “I will now … toot ... wish you a hearty … toot … good evening.”

Summer caught his arm. It was blazing hot and he quickly let go. “Wait, Thinker. You were telling me about Dr. Ferrier, the reason he’s here.”

Thinker walked to the cell door. “He made a great contribution to … toot… the war effort.”

“Why lock him up for that?”

“I must run.” The door was opened from the outside, and Thinker and his caldron clattered away.

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